Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Kiribati and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Cabaret Voltaire to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All The Birthday Party tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Section 25 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fifty Foot Hose,
Flipper,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Matthew Bourne,
Chris Corsano,
The Martian,
Surgeon,
James White and The Blacks,
Cymande,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Gladiators,
Duran Duran,
The Move,
Eric B and Rakim,
Idris Muhammad,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Jesper Dahlback,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sex Pistols,
Oneida,
Neu!,
Section 25,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Barbara Tucker,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Crispy Ambulance,
Skarface,
Ronan,
Franke,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Second Layer,
Suburban Knight,
Arab on Radar,
Steve Hackett,
Chrome,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Fire Engines,
Zapp,
Soul Sonic Force,
Black Pus,
These Immortal Souls,
Sällskapet,
The Young Rascals,
The Gun Club,
The Moleskins,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Banda Bassotti,
Soulsonic Force,
Rufus Thomas,
New Order,
Can,
Ultravox,
Aswad,
Black Moon,
Maleditus Sound,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Birthday Party,
Khruangbin,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.